


Seven Minutes

by Tangerine



Category: X-Force (Comics)
Genre: Drinking Games, First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shatterstar suffers through seven minutes in heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Minutes

Shatterstar doesn't like them sometimes, these people Julio insists are his friends. They talk over the TV, which annoys him, but even worse than that, they have this peculiar way of making him feel like he's an idiot when he's the smartest one in the room. They don't do it intentionally, which he thinks is supposed to make him feel better, but it still stings.

Not that he cares about stuff like that, of course.

Julio's been drinking, and he's not even twenty yet. His skin is flushed and damp, sweating though the room temperature is comfortable. Shatterstar tries to ignore him as he laughs, splashing his beer all over the floor. He would leave, if he could, but he promised Julio he would at least try to act like a normal person for once in his life.

He ignores them as they talk about sex, a conversational piece that none of them ever seem to tire of. Shatterstar's only consolation is that he knows Julio's secret, that Julio's never touched any bases, that Julio's stories about eager women are all lies. He doesn't think anybody believes them, but he would never tell Julio that. It would hurt him.

"Hey, Shatty."

He ignores it because if he doesn't, they'll embarrass him. He's embarrassed already.

"Leave him alone, Tabs," Julio says, lightly, teasingly, and Shatterstar exhales sharply, focussing more intently on his show. He's half hidden by Julio, who is precariously perched on the back of the chesterfield, tailbone pressed against Shatterstar's shoulders.

"We should play a game," Tabitha suggests instead. "Like spin the bottle."

"Or strip poker," James adds.

"Or seven minutes in heaven," Theresa says, on the edge of Shatterstar's vision. They're all hyper aware of her, but Shatterstar most of all. They're the only two sober people in the room, and while his abstinence is willing, he can see the struggle on her face. She shouldn't be here, like he shouldn't be here, but she had insisted, and so had Julio.

Tabitha laughs. "We do have eight people. Even split."

"More guys than girls," Roberto points out, to which Samuel nods empathically.

It's Feral who purrs, "What? You got no balls, sunshine?"

Roberto sighs, but nods, nervously shifting in his seat. Samuel looks equally uncomfortable, and James not at all. From Julio, there is no response, and Theresa and Tabitha are already looking for a sheet of paper on which to write all the names down.

Feral leans toward him, tail swishing back and forth. "You in, Shattybuns?"

He wants to say no, wants to run out of the room like he did with that Stecky woman, but Julio leans back, just enough pressure to remind him of his promise. Normal people are obviously insane, but he finds his head bobbing, and ignores the dark dread in his belly.

"Maybe we'll have a little girl on girl action, too," Tabitha says thoughtfully as she writes down the names, somewhat unsteadily. She and Samuel are exchanging glances, a private conversation that Shatterstar can't understand, but it looks like a tentative agreement.

"Okay. Everyone ready?"

Nods all around, except from him. He will do this, even if he doesn't understand what he has agreed to, because Julio would not embarrass him, not about this. He knows only that it's something sexual, because human teenagers seem to think of nothing else.

The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a sword.

"First up, me!" Tabitha sounds happy, followed quickly by disappointment, "and Sam."

"Woohoo," Sam says.

There's a closet attached to the room, filled with board games nobody ever wants to play, except him. Usually, he enjoys human games, which end with bruised egos, not bodies. Sam and Tabitha disappear inside. Some games fascinate him with their pointlessness. Others, like this one, just make him feel even more inhuman than he already does.

"And go!" Roberto shouts, draining his bottle of beer and going for another, and there is silence as they wait for whatever is going to happen to happen. The only background noise comes from the television show Shatterstar is no longer paying any attention to.

Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one …

"And over!" Roberto pounds on the door, and Sam and Tabitha emerge, Sam pink around the ears and Tabitha tucked snugly against his side, smiling. Of them all, they baffle Shatterstar the most. He doesn't understand love, and he's the first to admit it.

If it ever happens to him, he doesn't know what he'll do.

If it already has, he doesn't want to hear about it.

"Who next?" Roberto asks nervously, getting his hand slapped when he reaches for the hat. Roberto has slept with a woman, possibly more than one, but definitely a brunette who had looked at Shatterstar in the middle of the act and put her finger over her lips. Roberto had never noticed him there, and Shatterstar would rather forget the whole thing.

"You," Tabitha says wisely then deftly unfolds the second piece of paper. "And Terry."

Roberto mutters a quick thank you in Portuguese, pauses to give James a hard time, then walks to the closet where Theresa is standing, looking bemused. "Start the clock, will you please," she says, tugging Roberto inside the closet by the neck of his tee-shirt.

Shatterstar tries to ignore Feral, who's looking at him in that unsettling way she always does. Julio calls it a crush, but Shatterstar thinks that's too simple. He thinks she might try to kill him someday, because he can't give her what she wants. Feral's violence is unpredictable, born of an animal instinct his warrior instinct doesn’t easily match.

Shatterstar shifts his gaze to James, who is no longer smiling at all.

Julio is still and quiet, a pillar of strength behind him.

Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one …

"Redheads," Roberto says, swaggering out of the closet, laughing when Theresa boots him in the buttocks, causing him to stagger drunkenly. "Marry me, Terry."

"Oh hush," she says, shoving him onto the couch.

Roberto sighs blissfully.

"This is about to get very gay," Tabitha says, stirring her fingers through the remaining names. Inexplicably, Shatterstar's stomach flop-flips, like a bunch of moths are fluttering around in there. He feels vaguely panicked, and it's only his solid trust in Julio that makes him stay. That he trusts Julio this much is a problem; he shouldn't trust anyone.

Feral is still staring at him, and James is looking into his beer. Uncomfortable, to say the least, but there seems to be some unspoken agreement that this has to be finished, whatever this is. The concept feels vaguely familiar, like he saw it on TV once but dismissed it as more ridiculous human nonsense he wanted to know nothing about.

"Okay, we got the pussycat, and um …" Tabitha clears her throat. "Jimmy."

James and Feral exchange looks that cause Sam and Roberto to break up into hysterical laughter, trying to smother it with their hands. Julio stiffens slightly, a definite rigidity to his spine that hadn't been there before, but he doesn't break their subtle body contact.

Tabitha murmurs, "sorry, Ric," and Julio nods, but relaxes. Shatterstar relaxes, too.

"You coming?" Feral hisses, crooking a pointed finger in James's direction.

After a moment, James nods, and it begins.

Shatterstar tries not to look at his own watch this time.

Why are they all so obsessed with it, he wonders. Why can't they leave sex alone, without picking at it like a half-healed scab? It creates more trouble than it's worth. He's seen the looks on Julio's face when women reject him, though he can't understand why they would. He's cocky, yes, and prone to moody tempers, but he's very handsome.

Shatterstar's stomach flip-flops again.

Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one …

Feral emerges first, looking satisfied, and James second, looking dazed. They stare at each other then nod and settle on different sides of the room. All of the eyes are on him now. Not Julio, who has already stood up and is walking toward the closet, but him.

He follows Julio, because he's followed him for lesser things, and would follow him for greater things, too. To the death, if Julio asked, or across the world, or even back to Mojoworld. It frightens him sometimes, to think how much he would do for Julio.

To realise there is very little he wouldn't do.

Julio holds the door open for him then makes an obscene gesture to the room, which quells the rising storm of quiet chuckles. Inside, it smells like old paper, mildew and dust, and when the door shuts, it's dark as night. Shatterstar doesn't like the dark. He can still hear the echoes of inhuman screams from the other pens.

Seven.

"You have any idea what's going on here?"

Julio's voice is soft and amused, like he's smiling, but his hands have settled on Shatterstar's waist, holding him there firmly like he thinks Shatterstar is going to run. Julio has never been very feely-touchy; Julio has never touched him like this.

"I know it has something to do with sex," Shatterstar replies slowly. "It always does."

Julio laughs quietly at that. "Not quite. We're just supposed to make out. _Kiss._ "

"Kiss," Shatterstar repeats, an embarrassing heat flushing his face, and he understands why Roberto and Sam were so nervous. He's nervous too, but for a different reason. He doesn't want to kiss Julio, but not because he's a man. His gender isn't the problem.

"If you don't want to," Julio says vaguely, but his hands do not move. Shatterstar can feel the hot touch of Julio's breath on his throat, coming a little too quickly. Julio laughs then murmurs, "Though I don't exactly trust anyone else with this. With you. You'll kill them."

"I _really_ don't want to kiss anybody," Shatterstar says, his voice weirdly squeaky.

Julio doesn't say anything, but his thumbs are moving now, brushing softly against Shatterstar's waist. The merest hint of a touch, really, but Shatterstar's skin prickles, and he's feeling panicked now, like he's been cornered into something he doesn't want to do.

And yet, at the same time, he wants it, too.

Very confusing.

"Hey," Julio says gently, "don't freak on me. We can just wait it out, amigo, it's all good. I mean, it'd be pretty gay, right, you and me, like, making out. Kind of weird, si? If you don't want to, that's okay. That's cool. It's just a stupid game kids play, sometimes."

Six.

Julio's trying to sound calm, but there's an odd edge to his voice, like he sounds when his feelings have been hurt. Shatterstar moves suddenly, and Julio's hands tighten on him. There's a part of him that just wants to take this final step and get it over with, to finish it.

He could do it then never do it again, like some of the human things he's tried.

Such as holding Sam's wailing infant cousin.

Or going to the dentist.

Those things were decidedly unpleasant.

But he knows, if does this with Julio, he'll want to do it again. He's thought about it, kissing Julio, though he finds it almost impossible to imagine. For one thing, he is supposed to be asexual, a good little sexless soldier, except he appears to be faulty. For another, Julio loves the ladies. He has assured Shatterstar of this countless times.

Yet Julio's hands are on him, steady, thumbs dipping below the hem of his tee-shirt.

And Shatterstar is … aroused.

"Star?" Julio says softly. "You can break my arms any time you feel like it."

Five.

"What if I do not wish to break your arms?" Shatterstar asks, in that same quiet voice. They had once had a very serious conversation about indoor and outdoor voices. This new voice is something else entirely. Breathless, like his body is not getting enough air.

Julio laughs a little. "That's okay, too. I kinda like my arms."

Even in the dark, Shatterstar knows where Julio's elbows must be, and the smooth curves of his biceps, and the impressive width of his shoulders. As if to test his memory, Shatterstar places his hands on Julio's forearms, sliding them over Julio's overheated skin.

This is the furthest Shatterstar has ever let himself go.

This would be enough, he thinks. He could live with this.

He could, but he chooses not to.

A decision made, he supposes, even if he has no idea how to do it, how to kiss another person, another man. Julio is vibrating beneath his hands, chaotic and still, all at once. Shatterstar will never understand him. He thinks Julio might actually want this, too.

Shatterstar puts his hands on Julio's face, cradling his jaw, lifting his mouth.

Four.

He misses Julio’s mouth the first time, catching the corner of his lips, but the second time, Julio turns to him, and their mouths touch, softly, and remain there, as if waiting. Shatterstar can taste the alcohol on Julio’s breath, and wonders if this is all there is.

And then Julio combs his fingers through Shatterstar’s hair, and then.

And then.

Julio’s mouth opens against him, forcing his own lips to follow. Another adjustment of his head, and Julio’s tongue snakes out, licking at him. This should be disgusting, Shatterstar thinks wildly, trying to mimic Julio’s movements, but it isn’t. Not even close.

This is his first kiss, and he suddenly understands why so many TV shows revolve around it. It changes something inside him, though he is not sure what, but the tension in his body is slowly ebbing, and the heavy knot in his belly has finally started to unravel.

Three.

They kiss like that for what feels like hours, but is probably closer to a minute, when Julio takes one of Shatterstar’s hands and moves it to his waist. Julio is thinner than he is even though he often eats poorly and rarely exercises as much as he should. It will catch up with him someday, though Julio always gets annoyed with him when he brings it up.

But right now, Julio’s body feels perfect.

Shatterstar decides Julio has given him permission to slide his hand under Julio’s shirt, against his overheated skin and the soft flesh of his belly. Julio arches toward him, and the kisses changes, deepens. Shatterstar rakes his fingers up and down Julio’s back.

“Fuck,” Julio breathes, his hips bucking against Shatterstar’s thigh, and Shatterstar can feel the solid length of Julio’s erection, branding Shatterstar’s skin with its urgent heat. He makes his own arousal known, enjoying the way Julio growls into his open mouth.

Two.

Another change, and suddenly their bodies are pressing together, trying to fit like puzzle pieces, though that may be too chaste a comparison. He has had nocturnal emissions before, much to his annoyance, but he has never masturbated, despite Julio’s claims that everybody does it, and often. He has been stronger than his bodily urges, until now.

Now, he feels like a fool for not knowing it would feel like this.

“Fuck,” Julio whispers again, twisting against him. “We are so screwed.”

“Are we?” He grinds out, though his mind is wildly racing. Shatterstar cannot stop the insistent push of his hips, feels a storm rising in his body that he cannot run from. He wishes they were naked, that he could feel the heat of Julio’s bare skin against his own.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Julio says, and slides one hand into Shatterstar’s jeans, the other at his zipper, freeing his penis. Julio touches him, flesh on flesh, and Shatterstar grabs at him blindly with a moan. “Should be special,” Julio murmurs, “should be better than this.”

“I cannot see how it could be better,” Shatterstar answers honestly, and Julio swallows it up with another kiss. They rub and twist against each in a frenetic dance, Julio’s hand around both their penises, guiding their erratic motions. The orgasm hits him like a fist.

“Julio,” he murmurs, awash in wet heat.

One.

They breathe in unison for a few seconds, and then Julio is in a panic again, murmuring, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath as he fumbles around the shelves, knocking the games askew. He returns with a fistful of monopoly money and starts wiping his hands.

“Julio, I play that game,” Shatterstar hisses.

“You and no one else. Did you want me to use the Twister mat?”

Shatterstar opens his mouth to reply, but he realises Julio is right to be frantic. Ten seconds left, and then they’re expected to emerge, like it has been all games and fun. His penis is still hanging out of his pants, and he stuffs it back, catching it with his zipper.

“Fekt!”

Julio jumps, jostling the flimsy shelves, and then the games are raining down on them, deafening. Someone is pounding forcefully on the door, and Roberto’s voice cuts through the chaos: “Okay, game's over, guys. You can stop killing each other now.”

Even though Shatterstar cannot see it, he knows Julio is rolling his eyes. Suddenly, there is a bright light as the door opens a crack, laughter and teasing waiting on the other side. Shatterstar surreptitiously brushes his hand over the crotch of Julio’s jeans, just in case, but Julio has already set himself to rights. He does, however, stiffen at the touch.

“Asshole,” Julio murmurs under his breath with a smirk. “Later. My room. K?”

Shatterstar doesn’t smile, but inside, he is joyful.

Zero.


End file.
